YAY! Third Chapter! I never made a third chapter before!!

It was finally Monday, and, as expected, Nevermore was eager to get more friends. She really didn't know why, but she wanted lots of friends. Not for social gain, or to make everyone like her- just to have people to care about. To not lose humanity or lose a reason to live. It was important to have people to care about, and people who care about you. It was Nevermore's philosophy.

Haven came to the garage and sat behind her older sister. As they drifted towards school, Nevermore's mind began filling in with random thoughts. Why does Tweak drink so much coffee? Is that why he's so jumpy? Why does Kyle hang out with Cartman? Why is Wendy so paranoid about girls around her boyfriend? Is there any interesting clubs in school? Each jumped in her mind and left quickly. Nevermore had just realized they were at the middle school. Haven gave her a quick hug and left. Nevermore watched as Haven went straight to Ike, which made the teenager smile. She would have to keep in mind that boy- he might be Haven's new boyfriend. Nevermore chuckled at the thought, but it was a serious thought.

She made it to the high school in less than five minutes. Nevermore had came to school early, and not many people were in the school. She went to first period and saw Kyle writing on the chalk board. No one else was there. "Hi," he said, nodding at Nevermore. She smiled, "Are you a student teacher or what?" "Before school detention," Kyle muttered unhappily. He handed Nevermore some flyer that she put in her bag.

Kyle went back to writing on the board; Nevermore stared out the window. Slowly, people and their cars appeared. She recognized a few people, but got bored and watched people fill in the room. Kyle was passing out flyers to each person that came in. Nevermore decided to get out her's. This is what it said:

SPRING DANCE!!
FRIDAY 10TH 6:00 PM
FREE REFRESHMENTS!!
RAFFLES WITH GREAT PRIZES!!

It was a pathetic flyer, printed in flamboyant black-and-white font on painfully bright paper. None the less, the majority of the girls were buzzing about it, despite that the dance was a month away. Chit-chat of the boys they will force to take them, the expensive outfits that should only be worn for meting the president, and things like that. Nevermore, on the other hand, had an idea. She began looking up some things on her cell phone's Internet, jotting down something in a journal. Kenny, taking a break from staring at the group of girls, looked over at Nevermore, "What are you doing?" She immediately closed her book and smiled at him, "Nothing."

Nevermore's schedule was on an A-Day/B-Day routine. Which meant instead of sitting in the back of the gym, she got to sit in the back of the french classroom. Isn't life grand?, Nevermore thought, pushing open the door. French wasn't her favorite class- le this la that, it made her head hurt. As expected, the teacher introduced her -as Mademoiselle Claret because it didn't sound french-y enough with her first name- and sent her to the back of the classroom. The teacher began handing out an in-class assignment and told everyone to get a partner.

Nevermore didn't even remotely recognize anyone who passed her. Suddenly, the teacher's voice called for quiet. "Monsieur Christophe! You will work with Mademoiselle Claret." Nevermore sighed, how cool would it be if that was the boy she met on Saturday. But, judging by his voice when she met him, french was most likely his first language. She wasn't even sure if he was in this high school! Then again, things can happen.

"YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU INEXPERIENCED FAG!!" A voice that was familiar, angry, and thick with a french accent arose after the teacher's declaration. "Would you rather go to the office and have your mother called?" There was a pause before Christophe spat some french insults at the teacher, who, in turn, ignored him. The class was started giggling as Christophe walked over to the desk next to Nevermore. He was just as I saw him on saturday: unkempt hair; shady clothes. But he didn't have his shovel, or a cigarette. Though it was reasonable that he didn't.

Nevermore watched him wearily, "Um... Don't you know French?" Christophe smirked, "Yes. But eet eez much easier to take it. Ze fuckin' teacher eez too lazy, anyway." She shrugged it off, hoping that would mean he would be very helpful. Which was slightly true: Nevermore did most of the writing; Christophe helped her with translating. When they finished, there were at least twenty minutes left to work on it. Nevermore put her head on top of her hands. Everyone else in the room was either frustrated with their work, done or, most likely, have given up before they even got the assignment. She sighed, "I. Am. Bored."

Nevermore glanced at Christophe. He just sat there, his legs on top of the desk. She wondered why he looked cute to her. Christophe was an utter mess; he seemed to insult anyone if her ever gets a chance; and he always looked pissed. None the less, Nevermore eagerly took in all his details. Dull brown hair; chocolate eyes; the light scars on his toned arms... Her list could have went on and on if Christophe hadn't noticed her. "What eez et?" Nevermore jumped at his voice, "I, uh, th-that is... I mean-" Luckily, the teacher came to collect their paper. Christophe quickly went back to his desk.

Gah... This one took a longer time to write. I kept changing and changing and changing....